I Remember How it Was to Love Her
by L.H. Knox
Summary: Quinn writes a bestseller. Everyone in the world can see that it's about loving Rachel Berry, except, of course, Rachel Berry herself. Faberry. Oneshot. A fic literally sewn together using fluff. Enjoy!


**My Beta has not seen this yet. I apologize for any mistakes.**

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><p>Rachel stood outside of her local Barnes and Nobles, jittery with excitement. The store opened in exactly two minutes, and she'd already been there for the past twenty. For most Americans, it was a day like any other- Rachel observed as men in suits rushed to work, how women tugged on their children's hands, dragging them to school. It was a normal day, but for Rachel, and the rest of the New Directions, it was the day that Quinn Fabray's debut novel hit shelves.<p>

A disgruntled worker in desperate need of their morning coffee unlocked the front door, and Rachel barged into the store.  
>"Hello there, my name is Rachel Berry, and I pre-ordered a book that comes out today!" she announced as she walked to the register. The brunette squealed excitedly as she saw a display of the light blue book, Quinn's name printed on the front of them. She quickly handed over money in exchange for her own copy, and headed out the door onto the busy New York street. As she made her way down the street, she stuffed the book into her bag, planning on starting that night. She sighed as she thought of her busy schedule, grateful that there was something to look forward to at the end of her day.<p>

* * *

><p>Rachel slammed the apartment door shut, Blaine and Kurt lifting their heads in surprise, before quickly returning to the book they were reading together. Rachel groaned internally. They were reading a book at the same time. Ugh. Couples.<p>

"You guys will _not _believe the day I've had. Cassandra July rode my ass for five hours, I have three essays on the history of theatre due in the next week, and my playwriting teacher says he hated my idea for our spring onshow!"

Her rant hadn't gotten the sympathy she'd hoped for, in fact, it hadn't gotten any attention at all. Rachel looked to her friends, both boys with their noses in their damned book.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, seconds away from stomping her foot.

"Uh-uh, bad day, lots of work, bitch teacher," Kurt mumbled, not taking his eyes from the page. Blaine grunted in agreement as he quickly turned the page.

"What are you two reading?"

"Quinn's new book," Kurt said quickly, turning the page once he'd gotten the okay from Blaine.

"Really good," Blaine added, "Can't stop reading."

Rachel huffed, and retreated into her bedroom. She wished she could start the novel herself, but it was her night to make dinner, and she had laundry to do, not to mention all of her school work. She removed the book from her bag, and set it down on her bedside table.  
><em>I'll start it tomorrow,<em> she thought,_ there's too much to do tonight._

* * *

><p><em>Four Week Later:<em>

Rachel entered her dance classroom, and all eyes snapped up to stare at her. Rachel rolled her eyes as she saw what everyone was doing.

Reading Quinn's book.

Rachel was upset she hadn't had the time to read the book, and she'd sworn off reading anything that may give spoilers. She hadn't even read the blurb on the back of the book's cover—she wanted to be completely surprised.

"I'm telling you, it's about her," someone whispered.  
>"No way it's her. The book chick is way hotter than Berry," someone else replied.<br>"How would you know, there's no pictures. It's a book."  
>"You can just tell, okay?"<br>"I heard from someone that it was written by someone from her high school."  
>"Whoever this Quinn is, he must've been super whipped."<p>

Rachel whirled around to face the people talking about her. She recognized Brad and Evan, two of the more mediocre dancers.

"If you insist on talking about people behind their backs, I'd ask you to at least be gracious enough to do it quietly, or when I'm not here so I don't have to hear the garbage spewing from your mouths. Besides, Quinn is a woman, not a male, you Neanderthals."

The duo was quiet for a moment.

"Yeah, it's definitely her."

"What are you _talking _about?"

Brad smirked, and Evan chuckled. Rachel held back her desire to kick them both in the crotch.

"You haven't read the book yet?" Evan asked.

"Such a shame. It's _really _good," Brad added.

"You should get on it as soon as you can."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the boys and ignored them for the rest of the lesson, which proved to be easier than she thought. Once Cassandra entered, all of the copies of Quinn's book were shut and put aside.

Rachel hung her thick winter coat on the hook by the door as she entered her apartment. Kurt looked up from the concoction he was stirring long enough to grunt a hello to his roommate. She bypassed the kitchen and went straight to the bedroom to grab her copy of the book that had been haunting her for a month. When she passed by taxis with their AM radios blasting, all she could hear was talk of Quinn's book. They were calling it one of the greatest first novels of all time. It was at the top of every literary list imaginable, and according to the New Directions whatsapp group Rachel hated, Quinn had been offered talk show appearances. The book was on the world stage, and the world adored it.

Walking back into the living room, Rachel opened to the first page, and read the dedication.

_For R.  
>You saved me.<br>-Q._

Rachel searched her mind for any possible 'R' Quinn could be writing the book for. She couldn't think of one. Shrugging her shoulders, Rachel finally began the book.

_I remember how it was to love her, and that is what I miss most of all._

And with the opening line, Rachel realized she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. She was hooked.

The alarm clock sounded at 6.47AM, the same time Rachel was reading the last sentences of the book.

_And over time, I will forget many things. I will forget names. I will forget faces. I will forget the moments I shared with the world. But I will never forget her, as long as I am here. As long as my heart beats, she lives on. And she is beautiful._

Rachel wiped the tears from her cheeks, before placing the book on the coffee table littered with snacks from the previous night's reading fiesta. The book had been equal parts funny, tragic, and beautiful (_Kind of like Quinn herself, _Rachel had thought.) Thought a story of love, it was also about self discovery, friendship, prejudice... Rachel shuddered thinking about the place Quinn had to have been in to write a book like this.

Kurt interrupted the diva's thoughts as he entered the living room, yawning loudly.

"You finished the book?"

"Took me all night, but yes."

"What did you think?" Blaine asked, as he entered shortly after Kurt.

"It was... incredible. Mesmerising. Everything a book should be, and more."

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, scepticism in their eyes.

"That's it?" Kurt questioned.

"You don't have any burning questions about it?" Blaine queried.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at the pair.

"_Should _I?"

"YES." They replied in unison.

"Rach, the book is about you, honey." Rachel laughed in their faces.

"No, it's not. Why would Quinn write a book about me? Especially one about _love._"

"Because, you idiot. She _loves _you." Rachel shook her head vehemently.

"Nope, nuh-uh. Not at all."

"The love interest is named after you." Kurt reasoned.

"Her name is Leah, you idiot."

"In the Bible, what's the name of Rachel's sister?"

"... Leah."

"She couldn't outright name the character Rachel."

Rachel huffed, and poured herself a coffee. She didn't consider their evidence as proof; it was way too farfetched.

"And what does Leah love to do?" Blaine prompted.

"... Sing. But so does half of New York!"

"But half of New York isn't described as 'destined to be the next great Broadway starlet, following in the footsteps of Barbra Streisand herself'. Goddamnit, Rachel, she dedicated the fucking book to you."

"Guys. The book isn't about me. There's no way it is, because that would mean that Quinn-" Rachel stopped speaking, because she dreaded what would come next.

"It would mean," Kurt continued softly, "that Quinn loves you."

Rachel felt her stomach drop as Kurt spoke. Feelings she'd been ignoring throughout high school came rushing back in an instant. She couldn't deny the fact that she'd once had feelings for the blond author, but she'd always pushed them away, scared of the baggage that would come with the love. There was also the obvious reason of not pursuing the feelings, being that Quinn Fabray could never, not in a million lifetimes, ever love Rachel Berry back.

"It's not true," Rachel mumbled, tears threatening to spill over.

"Rachel, Leah is described as a singing force to be reckoned with, she speaks in monologues, uses words that literally nobody else knows, and she's a short brunette woman. There's no way this is describing anyone but you."

"It.. It could be Tina."

"_It's not Tina!" _Kurt screamed. "It's you. It's always been you, and it will always be you. She loves you."

Rachel remained quiet, attempting to internalize the last ten minutes of her life. The book couldn't be about her, because if it were, then the time she spent in high school being in love with Quinn, but refusing to address it... that time of her life could've been avoided. The heartache, the tears, they could've all been avoided. Quinn Fabray was like sunshine in Rachel's life- bright and life-giving, always present even if hidden by those pesky New York clouds. Quinn Fabray was pure energy, she was life itself, and _fuck, _Rachel hated her so fucking much. How dare she? How dare she write a book about the diva and not even tell her about it? She didn't even ask for Rachel's permission!

Rachel was wary. She didn't want to be hurt again, not by Quinn. She couldn't be hurt again, because if she were, she would cease to exist. Being hurt by Quinn Fabray would cause Rachel Berry to simply stop being. But then again, there was that tiny, miniscule part of her that thought _what if?_ What if Quinn truly loved her? What if this was the fairytale ending Rachel had been waiting for since she could understand the concept of 'happily ever after'? Quinn was fresh air, and Rachel was desperate to breathe her in. Quinn was an uncontrollable flame, and Rachel needed her warmth.

"Rachel? Are you okay?" Blaine asked. Rachel wanted to kill him. Of course she wasn't okay. Quinn Fucking Fabray fucking loved her. How was she supposed to be okay with that?

"She... she loves me." And with those words, Rachel allowed herself to accept the years of repression, the years of denying herself the feelings she had for Quinn. A warmth filled Rachel's insides, one she couldn't quite identify. The warmth of hope, of maybe something would finally happen. And then the reality hit her.

"Now what?" she whispered.

"Huh?"

"What now? Okay, she loves me. Big deal. Now what? How do I find her? How do I tell her I love her, too, even if I haven't spoken to her properly in two years?" Rachel mumbled something that neither Kurt nor Blaine could make out.

"What was that?"

"I said, what if she doesn't love me anymore?"

A mischievous glint shone in Kurt's eyes, reflecting against Blaine's scheming grin.

"Don't worry. We have a plan."

* * *

><p>Quinn sat in her dressing room, surfing the internet from her phone, waiting to be called to stage to film a segment on 'Tonight with Beckett Jones'. She accessed her old Facebook account. She didn't use it often, at least not to post. She used it mostly to stalk her old friends- well, one friend in particular.<p>

The blond stared intently at a photo of a certain small diva on her phone screen. Her feelings scared her. How could Quinn still be in love with this girl? High school had been over for two years. She hadn't spoken to Rachel in twelve months, let alone let the small brunette know how she felt. And yet, when she stared into those intense, dark eyes, Quinn felt her world slip away. It was like Rachel was the only thing that tied her to this earth. Without Rachel, Quinn would float away and would be lost in the vast, terrifying universe. Without Rachel in this world, Quinn didn't know if she could go on.

She'd accepted a long time ago that nothing would ever happen between her and the small brunette. It was an impossibility, a never-gonna-happen. It hurt, it hurt more than anything on this hellish earth, and yet Quinn had come to terms with her tragic fate of forever loving someone who could never love her in return. She liked to think that she was being selfless, that it didn't matter whether Rachel loved her back or not, as long as the diva was happy. But there was always that part of Quinn telling her to board a train from New Haven to New York, to show up at Rachel's apartment, or at her school, or at her diner as she worked, and just confess her love for the singer. Quinn was not a spontaneous person; she was calm, collected, and always five steps ahead of everyone else in her life. But when it came to the girl she loved, Quinn felt like she was running just to keep up. And now she was in New York as part of the tour, and she had yet to work up the courage to track Rachel down.

"Five minutes, Ms. Fabray," a tech hand announced, sticking his head into the room, and then leaving again. Quinn took a deep breath, and did one last check in the mirror. She reached the sound stage and waited to be introduced to the waiting audience.

"Our first guest is a New York Times bestselling author whose first novel debuted in the number one spot. The book is funny, witty, and completely beautiful, just like its author. Please welcome Quinn Fabray!" As the audience began applauding, Quinn walked to the couch that was waiting for her, and kissed the show's host on the cheek. Beckett Jones was forty-something, with a full head of salt-and-peppered hair. His smile was infectious, and Quinn felt herself smiling, despite not being in a particularly good mood. The two of them sat down, Beckett shuffling the cue cards in his hands.

"Well, Quinn, thanks for being here," Beckett smiled.

"Thanks for having me," Quinn replied graciously. Quinn was a publicist's dream. She was funny and quick on her feet, whilst remaining sincere and intelligent. She was elegant and charming, and hard to forget.

The two bantered back and forth, the audience enjoying the rapport that formed quickly. Finally, Beckett asked the question Quinn had been dreading.

"So the book is, more than anything else, a love story."

"I prefer to say it's a book about life, and love just happens to be a very big part of that."

"So did you have an inspiration for the love aspect of the novel?"

"Well I think all writers draw on their experiences throughout life. The whole book is an amalgamation of my different experiences, so yeah, aspects of the love story were influenced by a certain someone."

"Do they know who they are?" Quinn felt herself blush at the question.

"No. That was a chapter I closed a long time ago."

"You never told them?"

"Never. And it's probably for the best. They could never have loved me back."

"I find that incredibly hard to believe."

The interview continued on, and towards its end, Beckett pulled out an envelope for one of the show's segments.

"Before the show, we asked our audience if they had any questions for bestselling author Quinn Fabray, and we got a lot. Our stage hands have whittled them down, and here we go.

Our first one comes from Katherine M, who asks 'who is the one author that inspired you more than anyone else?'""

Quinn only had to think for half a second.

"Nora Ephron. She's a goddess. I worship her. Completely perfect. She's been inspiring me every day since I turned sixteen."

"Alrighty, second question comes from a Kurt H." Quinn's eyes widened, and she felt herself freeze. It couldn't be Kurt _Hummel_, because if it were, she'd bet all of her book royalties that Rachel was by his side, and that the little miscreant was probably planning something drastic.

Beckett, oblivious to Quinn's semi-meltdown, continued to read the card, frowning as he read it.

"Kurt says, Quinn I had to pay the stage guy 50 bucks to get this read out, but you have to know that you could have it all. Everything's mutual. She's waiting for you to love her back. Also, you owe me fifty dollars."

The audience was silent; they couldn't tell if it was a prank or not. Quinn couldn't move, she couldn't stop the stinging of tears as they appeared. Rachel loved her, too? No, it wasn't a question anymore. Rachel loved her, too. Rachel Berry felt the same feelings that Quinn felt. It was mutual. It was possible.

In a single second, her world had changed.

_I can love Rachel Berry._

And with that thought, the floodgates broke, and years of pretend hatred and accepted unrequited love finally flowed through Quinn's bloodstream. She felt empowered, she felt strong and brave. Her eyes scanned the crowd quickly, and she saw Kurt sitting beside Blaine, Rachel nowhere in sight.

_She must be at home, _Quinn thought to herself.

"... Is this 'she' in the audience?" Beckett asked excitedly, he could smell the ratings a mile away. Quinn ignored his question.

"If you'll excuse me, Beck, there's somewhere I have to go." Quinn stood, and ripped her microphone from her blouse, before rushing from the stage amidst a roar of applause.

She rushed through the corridors, with only one goal in mind: get to Rachel's apartment. And if she wasn't there, go to her school. Go to the diner. Run through the streets of New York City screaming her name until Rachel Berry was safely in her embrace. Quinn burst into her dressing room like a madwoman, trying to find her handbag as quickly as possible. She rushed about, trying to find that _damn bag._ Where the hell had she put it.

Someone behind her cleared their throat.

Quinn let out a high-pitched squeal in surprise, and whirled around to face the intruder.

She felt her whole body go numb. Her mind went blank. Her heart beat wildly against its cage.

"I never thought I'd hear Quinn Fabray squeal like that. It was very un-Quinn like."

"You... You startled me," Quinn said, lamely.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"No. Don't apologize. You're not the one who needs to apologize."

Quinn sat on the couch next to her surprise guest. She felt her heart skip a beat as Rachel brushed up against her.

"So..." Quinn didn't know where to start.

"So," Rachel replied.

"... How, er, how have you been?"

"Better. I've been a bit out of sorts since I found out my high school friend wrote a book about being in love with me."

Quinn ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair. Rachel bit her lip; Quinn was too sexy for her own good.

"Rachel, this isn't how I wanted you to—"

"Stop. Stop talking. Let me say what I need to say, and then you can speak, okay?" Quinn nodded in agreement with the diva.

"Quinn I am so mad at you. I am so fucking mad at you."

"Rae—"

"NO. I spent my whole high school career thinking that you hated me. I spent four years with you _torturing me_, even though we both considered each other to be friends, and then in one day I find out that you love me. Do you know how infuriating that is? To know that for that whole time I spent scared and pissed off, I could have been close to you? I hate you, Quinn. I hate you. I hate what you make me feel. I hate the fact that you single-handedly ruined high school for me, and I hate that you make it impossible for me not to love you.

"I spent the last three years of my life trying to get over you. I wrote songs, I dated guys, I immersed myself in my schooling... and I truly thought that I was finally over you. And I was. I was over you.

"And then I read this book, this beautiful, tragically incredible book, and everything I've tried to ignore for the past three years comes rushing right back. It's not _fair_, Quinn. None of this is fair."

"I'm so sorry-"

"No. Stop. Please."

Rachel slowly lifted a hand, and stroked Quinn's cheek.

"None of this is fair, and so much of me hates you, but I never want you to apologize for loving me. Apologize for being a bitch, maybe, but never apologize for loving me. Because I will never apologize for loving you."

Quinn couldn't contain herself. She leaned forward, diminishing the space that was left between the two of them. As their lips connected, the blond felt her veins catch fire, her heart pumping the flames throughout her body. Nothing had ever felt more right, nothing had ever felt more pure or complete. Loving Rachel was something Quinn was born to do, and being allowed to express that love fulfilled Quinn more than any book could.

The pair broke apart, each gasping for air. Rachel licked her lips, and Quinn resisted the urge to lean back in.

"Wow," Rachel breathed, and Quinn chuckled.

"That was some speech," Quinn said, "maybe you should be the writer."

"I'll stick to being the muse," Rachel laughed.

* * *

><p>Rachel lay beside Quinn, snuggled into her side. The two had had a rather energetic afternoon, and now they basked in each other's company, more in love than ever before. The author had postponed the rest of her book tour for a few weeks to spend time with Rachel. She had already put in calls to a realtor about buying a flat in the city, unable to be apart from her love for too long. Rachel ran her fingers along a scar that ran along Quinn's side, a souvenir from her Senior Year accident. Thinking about how Quinn could so easily not be in her life scared Rachel. To lose Quinn now would be to part with her soul, to be torn apart never to be put back together. Choking back tears that threatened to spill, Rachel looked up at Quinn.<p>

"Quinn?" she asked, her voice small.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you… can you please read to me?"

Quinn wiped away a stray tear that had fallen with the pad of her thumb.

"What do you want me to read, Rae?"

Silently, Rachel picked up the light blue book from her bedside, and handed it to the blond.

"_I remember how it was to love her, and that is what I miss most of all."_ Quinn paused. "I remember how it is to love you, for I plan on loving you forever."

"That's not how it goes," Rachel mumbled.

"I'm starting my next book early."

Rachel twisted her head, and placed a small kiss on Quinn's lips.

"That's lovely, but for now just read me this one."

Laughing at the brunette's command, Quinn began to read her words. They were words she had written a lifetime ago, before she really knew who they were about.

At that moment, Quinn knew that there was a god, or a cosmic force, or something or other controlling her life, because there was no other explanation for it.

She was with the one and only love of her life, and by some divine miracle, Rachel Berry loved her, too.


End file.
